Love Thy Neighbor
by Mustard Lady
Summary: Stacy Sloan promises a former tycoon now low class, that she won't publicize sensitive info about his family, but then it ends up in the news. Then the man kills himself! Stacy feels greatly responsible for what happened and enlists the help of her friends and family to investigate his death when things start not adding up. Was it murder? Can Stacy right a wrong she didn't do?
1. Chapter 1 I Won't Tell

**Hey, everyone. I'm trying to finish Beyond Routine so it'll be done. So, a few things in here will be spoilers for the end of that. **

**Anyway, here's a new story! I don't own DM, but I do own Stacy, Kate, Julie, and Annie the dog. I've been planning and working on this story for a few years now, but I've wrestled back and forth with part of the plot, that's why it took so long! I really hope you'll like it. Oh, and someone we all know and love from the first two seasons will be making his appearance! Can you guess who?**

**Please leave feedback! Thank you. This story takes place at Season 7. Stacy is a reporter, and Kat is a social worker, though she is also working at becoming a hair stylist. **

* * *

Steve Sloan had just payed for gasoline at the pump when his phone rang. "Hello? Sloan here." Steve answered his phone. "Where? How long ago? Yeah, all right. I'm on my way." Steve said and left.

* * *

"I'm glad we didn't wait to eat." Amanda said, biting into her food.

"Oh, me too!" Kat panted. "I'm starving!" The Sloans plus Jesse and Amanda were eating together at _BBQ Bob's_ tonight, along with CJ and Dion but Kat had been late and Steve had called earlier to inform them that something had come up.

"CJ? You really gonna eat all that?" Jesse teased, eying his middle namesake's filled plate of appetizing food.

"_Yeah!" _CJ retorted. "I'm gonna eat all that!"

"Where are you gonna pack it all, I wonder?" Mark smiled.

"Hey, I'm a growing boy." CJ cocked his head. Everyone laughed and Amanda patted his head.

"You eat all that, where are you gonna have room for dessert?" Stacy asked.

"I'll _make _room." CJ announced proudly, earning more laughs.

"Momma, can I have dibs on Uncle Steve's dinner, if I want seconds?" Dion asked. Mark cringed.

"We'll see." Amanda smirked.

"I wonder what Dad got pulled into this time." Stacy remarked.

"No telling." Mark shrugged.

"Ahem, copper approaching at six o'clock." Jesse said under his breath. Everyone looked up as Steve came to their table.

"Sorry, I'm late." He groaned, taking his seat. "Did you, uh, save my order, I hope?"

"Right here." Kat said, handing him his plate in one hand and eating with her fork in the other.

"Thanks, hon." Steve said, hungrily gazing into his dinner.

"Well, I guess this means you'll both have room for dessert." Jesse told CJ and Dion.

"So, Steve? What came up that delayed you?" Mark asked and everyone eagerly listened.

"Mph." Steve grunted, trying to swallow his bite of food. "Dad, do you remember a Joe Slighter?" Mark furrowed his brows.

"That last name sounds very familiar." Kat said.

"Joe Slighter...Joe Slighter," Mark said to himself. "Doesn't he who work for Marley's Furnishings?"

"The very one." Steve nodded.

"Now, I remember him!" Mark smiled in recognition. "He came into the ER two years ago."

"Yeah, came in with a hand injury." Jesse added. "He drilled his hand and had to have stitches."

"Right, and he also made some planks for me so I could get outdoors a month later when I had that roller skating accident." Mark said sheepishly. "Said he was trying to return a favor."

"And his wife made cookies too." Stacy said.

"Wasn't he the chairman of Bartell Industries before?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, yes. Very big money man before things went under." Mark agreed.

"Till his business went bankrupt." Jesse added.

"Well, that was _not _Joe's fault." Mark said defensively. "He was trying to do business the honest way, and he did everything he could to save that company and his workers' jobs. But it just didn't pay off in the end. Wasn't enough to save the industry."

"Yeah. Anyway, he was attacked tonight in his own home." Steve said.

"Is he all right?" Mark asked in alarm.

"Yeah, a knife wound. He was slashed on the arm. Alex says he'll be all right, but the attacker got away." Steve grumbled.

"What do you think he was after?" Kat asked.

"Was it a robbery?" Amanda asked.

"That's what he said it was." Steve replied. "Says a guy in a mask came in and started demanding where the money was. When Joe kept refusing to tell, the guy became berserk and went for him. Fortunately, a neighbor heard the commotion and burst inside scaring off the attacker before he had a chance to do more than just a flesh wound. Neighbor called for help, and that's where I came in."

"What about his wife and daughter?" Mark asked worriedly. "Are they all right?"

"Yeah, they're fine." Steve answered. "Thankfully, they weren't there when it happened."

"You have any idea what money he was talking about?" Mark asked.

"Well, when I asked him about that, Mr. Slighter said that he'd rather not tell me." Steve shook his head.

"That doesn't sound good." Stacy stated.

"No." Jesse agreed.

"That doesn't sound like Joe." Mark shook his head. "From what I can remember, he seemed like a very hard-working, up-standing, family man."

"Maybe if you saw where he lived, you'd think differently." Steve said. "You know, he hasn't been the most popular guy in town since his company shut down."

"Except in the gossip columns." Kat remarked.

"I'd like to have a talk with Joe." Mark said with a grim look on his face. "I just can't believe that someone like him would be involved in anything wrong."

"I'll drive you over there when we're finished eating if you'd like." Steve offered.

"I would." Mark said firmly.

"Can I go with you guys?" Stacy asked.

"You looking for an interview or just mere curiosity?" Steve teased. His oldest daughter Stacy was an investigative journalist for _The Los Angeles Times. _

"Maybe both." Stacy said. "May I come too?"

"I suppose," Steve shrugged, "though I don't think you'll find anything intriguing."

"How about just for the ride?" Stacy smiled.

* * *

While Kat, Jesse, Amanda, and her boys enjoyed the rest of their evening together, Steve drove his father and daughter to Joe Slighter's place. Mark's face grew solemn when Steve turned onto 8th Street. It was a dirty alley between old businesses and in the rougher, more unpleasant part of town. Mark grimaced sadly. "_This _is where Joe's been staying?" He asked, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.

"Apparently." Steve groaned.

"How sad." Stacy sighed, thinking of the Sloans' large, beautiful, roomy, and clean beach house. She felt a warm sense of gratefulness for her blessings.

"Last I remembered, Joe and his family lived in a house." Mark interjected. "I made a house call to follow up on his stitches."

"Things have changed, Dad." Steve said grimly then pulled the car to a stop in front of a dismal, run down shack adjacent to one of the older brick buildings. Steve turned off the motor. "Well, we're here." He said.

Mark and Stacy both stared unhappily at the structure. "I just can't imagine Joe and his family living in a place like this." Mark said.

"No." Stacy sighed, debating whether she had the nerve to go inside or not. It certainly didn't look inviting. The place smelled like cigarettes and wet asphalt. Mark and Stacy followed Steve to the rustic door. Steve knocked.

"Joe Slighter?" Steve called. "It's Lt. Sloan. Remember, we met at the hospital? I brought someone here to see you." The door opened and a middle-aged man with a bandage on his arm appeared.

"Lt." Joe Slighter said. "What brings you back here? The police were here already."

"I know, but I brought a couple visitors." Steve said. "Your remember my father, Dr. Mark Sloan?"

"Of course, I do." Joe smiled and reached out his hand. "You're the only doctor I know of who's ever become a patient playing around in his own workplace."

"Joe, is that _you?_" Mark asked, shaking his hand.

"Yes, Doc." Joe nodded.

"And this is my daughter, Stacy." Steve said. "Well, my oldest one anyway."

"Well, hello there, Miss." Joe smiled widely.

"Hi." Stacy smiled nervously.

"Won't you come in?" Joe asked and they all followed him inside. To their surprise, the inside of Joe's dwelling was much more welcoming than the outside. It was clean with very sparse, simple furnishings, but they were there: a small table with a single chair, a very simplistic lamp table with a small lamp on it, a broken down sofa, and an ancient stove, fridge, and sink. There was a tiny hallway with two rooms, a bathroom and a puny bedroom where Stacy and Mark could see a cot on the floor. The place was livable, yet looked so lonely. Joe Slighter had certainly made it his home, yet there was still something too singular about it. It was missing something. "As you can see, Dr. Sloan, I've kind of been slumming it for a while." Joe sighed.

Mark stared unhappily at the man. He had changed so much from three years ago. His ragged clothes made him look homeless, his face was worn with more lines of wear and care than Mark had last remembered or cared to count, and he looked beaten against the wind. The drastic change in this life-filled man startled Mark. "What happened to you, Joe?" Mark asked. "What about your wife and child?"

Joe gazed at the older doctor solemnly. "We're not living together right now." He answered. "Not till I can afford it. I've been living here for the passed two and a half years."

_Two and a half years, in this place? _Stacy cringed in thought.

"Would you like to tell us what happened?" Mark prodded.

Joe hesitated, then spoke. "Jane and Minnie are living with my sister right now, and I'm sending her money for their room and board." He explained. "I've still got my job, Doc, but it wasn't enough to keep us from hard times. Actually, the whole thing is really my fault."

"Your fault?" Mark furrowed his brows.

"Yeah. It all started when I lent my brother Bill thirty grand of our hard-earned money. That was right after I lost my company. He said he was in trouble again, and if I didn't give him the money, someone was gonna kill him." Joe said dryly. "Jane told me it was a big mistake, but my brother insisted that his life depended on it. I gave him the cash and he left. I've never heard back from him since.

'Almost two years ago, we'd run into some tight months with money. I was working only part-time, and my wife was laid off of her job, not to mention I'd lost all sense of social stature according to the public when I had to lay off my workers. We were barely making ends meet. Then we almost lost Minnie.'" As he said this, their eyes were diverted to a small photo frame on the lamp stand. It had a picture of Joe with his wife and daughter, and they looked so happy. "She was in a major car accident while staying with a friend. The doctors had to fight to save her! She was in a coma for days and with major injuries. It's a miracle she's even alive today, Doc!" Joe's voice broke up.

"We're so sorry." Stacy said. "We didn't know."

"Thanks, Miss." Joe said.

"And after recovery and the horror of worrying about your child's survival, all the medical care bills started bombarding you." Mark stated. Steve just listened and watched as his father gained this man's trust, and hoped that this would help them indicate who had come after Joe.

"That's right, Doc!" Joe huffed. "Two months in the hospital, with the operations, the follow-ups, the tests, the life support, the therapy...we didn't have the money at the time, and they just kept coming and coming. Plus the normal household expenses. _And _the lousy thirty thousand I gave my loser brother."

"So, what did you do?" Stacy asked.

"Well, my workplace _now_ carries insurance, but only for myself." Joe sighed. "The family insurance we'd had, had expired on us the year before Minnie's accident and we couldn't find another one that would take us." The Sloans all pursed their lips. This part of the story was sadly not a new one to them. "I tried to do extra jobs, but nobody needed or wanted my services. Jane and I finally agreed that we had to sell our home and our car. My sister agreed to let Jane and Minnie stay with her until we get back on our feet, while I've been paying her for their accommodations. They've been living there ever since. This was the cheapest place near work that I could find. I've been trying to put extra money aside, to save up enough so that we can have a real home again."

"Oh, Joe." Mark moaned. "We're so sorry."

"Couldn't some of the people at your church help you?" Stacy suggested. "Well, I mean...do you guys have a church that..."

"The pastor keeps in touch with us." Joe muttered. "The others? They won't have anything to do with us."

"Why not?" Mark sputtered.

"That doesn't sound very charitable." Steve grumbled. "Or _Christian." _

"For one, Lt., if you won't get offended in me saying so, I don't believe in fighting with people. It's not charitable, and only causes trouble. Many of my former business associates attend the same church that we did. They didn't take kindly to me after Bartell Industries went under. We used to donate a very handsome chunk of money when I had Bartell Industry to lean on, but then that changed. Many in our church frowned on that." Joe continued. "Granted they were very polite and well-wishing when Minnie was hurt, but after we had to sell our home and give up many of our possessions, they snubbed us. We more or less became outcasts in our own congregation because we couldn't make end's meet. And they've made a habit of rubbing it in our noses."

"That's not right." Mark growled.

"No, it _isn't!" _Stacy declared. "What kind of so called _Christian _way is that of helping the unfortunate?" She hoped she hadn't offended the man by implying that he was so poor.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Steve said.

"Don't ask me." Joe shrugged miserably. "But my stupid decision in giving money to my brother didn't help matters either."

"So, where is this money you're saving?" Steve asked. "Do you think that's what the robber was after?"

"I believe so. Or could be the money I lost when we had to close down." Joe replied. "But I don't even know who the man was."

"Joe, are you keeping the money in a savings account?" Mark asked.

"No." Joe shook his head. "No, I am not about to do that! I have a secret place, where I'm keeping the money for our new house. It might take me another year, but we'll have a new home again, someday." Joe said. "Sorry, but I don't trust banks any more than I trust insurance companies. Not anymore."

"You know, you really should keep the money somewhere secure." Steve said.

"It _is _secure, Lt." Joe retorted.

"Not when someone tries to kill you for it." Steve interjected.

"The good Lord will protect me." Joe stated. "It won't happen again." Steve stared at the older man, unconvinced.

"Did you notice anything significant about this robber?" Mark asked.

"He was dressed in black, I couldn't see his face, he was crazed, and came at me with a knife. That's all I know." Joe huffed.

"Mmm." Mark sighed. They weren't getting very far with helping this guy. "Well, Joe? I'm glad it wasn't worse, but if you think of anything else, please let us know. We'd really like to help you."

"Thanks, Doc."

Steve and Mark spoke to each other, discussing on how to go about this while Stacy slowly approached the older man. "Mr. Slighter?" She asked.

"Yes, Miss?"

"You shouldn't be ashamed for your efforts." Stacy said kindly. "Though we may not agree with everything you do, I believe for the most part that you've done the right thing. Hey," She lowered her voice to a whisper, "we're Christians too. Our dad is a believer, but he's still the toughest guy I've ever known, and he's the best cop in LA. His beliefs don't stop him from doing his job. In fact, I think it helps him do his job better!"

Joe gazed thoughtfully at her. "Thanks, Miss."

"But, to be honest, my dad and the police could help you much better if you cooperated more. They're only trying to protect you, especially with many people out there who blame you for your former company's trouble."

"Not that I don't appreciate it, Miss Sloan. But I don't need it. After I failed my employees and my family, I deserve this. As long as my wife and daughter are safe, that's all I care about. _They're _the ones the police should be keeping an eye on."

"You know, I actually work for _The Los Angeles Times. _I'm a reporter there, and let me tell you, it's not easy to be in there and stand up for what's right." Stacy sighed softly, not thinking about what she was saying. She was only trying to offer consolation. Joe's eyes widened, and he looked offended.

"I didn't know you were a reporter!" He exclaimed. Mark and Steve noticed the dismay in his face. "Lt., I don't appreciate you bringing in a reporter with you. Please, ask her to leave."

"Take it easy, Joe." Steve said calmly. "She's my daughter. She wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"Take my word for that." Mark said. "You can trust her, every bit as much as you can trust me or my son."

Joe looked at them skeptically. "I still don't like it."

"I'm sorry." Stacy spoke fervently. "I didn't mean to offend you. And I have no intention of sharing in the news anything you said, if you don't want me to." Joe stared at her suspiciously. "You and your family have had a rough time, and I wouldn't do anything to make things_ worse_ for you."

"You vouch for her, Doc?" Joe asked cautiously.

"I do!" Mark smiled warmly. Joe glanced from Mark to Stacy.

"Well, Doc, if you say she's a good person, that's good enough for me." Joe finally relented. "I'm sorry for jumping on your case like that, Miss. If the Doc says I can trust you, then I believe I can." Stacy smiled at him. "But, I must ask you to _please _not publicize a word of what I've told you guys! The media and even members of our church claimed that I was using Minnie's accident as a stunt to gain public sympathy after becoming a loser. I _don't_ want my little girl exposed to any more ridicule or hurt! She's already suffered _enough."_

"Don't worry. I _won't_." Stacy said. "I wouldn't dare print anything to give those people the satisfaction of making you more miserable! I promise that I won't share this in the paper or the news at all!"

"Do you truly mean that?" Joe asked.

"Yes!" Stacy insisted. "Yes, I do. You have my word."

"Thank you, Miss Sloan. You don't know how much I appreciate that." Joe finally smiled again.

"Well, there's not much more we can do for you here." Steve said. "I assure you, we'll try to find out who did this. Here's my card, Joe. If it happens again, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me."

"As you say, Lt." Joe sighed.

"Joe, I'm available if you need anything." Mark spoke up. "I hope you know that. Please don't hesitate to call, even if you just want to talk."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Well, we'll leave you alone now." Steve said, heading for the door.

"Thanks for listening to all my whining, Doc." Joe chuckled, shaking Mark's hand.

"Oh, that's okay." Mark snickered back. "I'm a doctor, that's what I do."

"Oh, Lt.? You'd better keep a sharp eye on that girl of yours," Joe grinned. "The boys'll be giving you trouble lining up to ask her out!" Steve smirked and Stacy shook her head.

"Not really." She smiled.

"I know I do!" Steve declared. "And you should see my other one who looks just like her mother!" Joe smiled.

"Thank you, Miss Sloan, for being so understanding." He said.

"It's okay." Stacy smiled back. She and Mark began to follow Steve out the door when Joe spoke up again.

"Remember, you promised!" He looked at Stacy.

"I'll remember." Stacy said. "I _won't_ tell."

* * *

**All right, so maybe that wasn't the right thing for Stacy to share given the circumstances, but we've all had 'slip-of-the-tongue' incidents before, right? Anyway, it's gonna come back to bite her...**


	2. Chapter 2 Gossip

"What do you think, Grandpa?" Stacy asked as they climbed back into Steve's car.

"I can't believe how things became so bad for Joe and his family." Mark sighed. "It's terrible."

"I don't know about the whole sob story part, but..." Steve shrugged.

"Steve, you don't believe him?" Mark stared in disbelief at his son.

"Why not?" Stacy also interjected.

"Now, I didn't say that I didn't believe him," Steve said defensively, "but it does seem like a long stretch story...at least for a robbery. However, I am gonna go talk to the people at Marley's Furnishings, see if anyone can shed some light onto this."

"I think I'll have a talk in the morning with the pastor at the church the Slighters used to go to." Mark said.

"That's a good idea!" Stacy agreed. "You know, I sure would like to give that congregation some words to think about! They shouldn't be so unkind. Maybe they'll read one of my articles." She said squinting her eyes.

"Stace, you said that you wouldn't..." Steve started to object.

"Wouldn't what?" Stacy stared at him. "Dad, I'm not going to say _anything _about the Slighters themselves. I said I wouldn't, and I won't. _And, _I don't even have to specify anybody. _But, _if they had something to read about looking out for others' needs, maybe they'd rethink their actions and attitudes."

"That's not exactly what we legally call criminal material." Steve said sarcastically.

"It doesn't have to be." Stacy shook her head.

"You know, Joe said that he'd lent his brother money a few years ago," Mark stated, "and that he never paid him back. Maybe whoever his brother owed, came back for his dues."

"But it wasn't Joe who owed him the money." Steve said.

"That's true, but maybe the guy knew whom Bill got the money from." Mark continued.

"That's possible." Stacy agreed.

"It is possible, but then why did the man Bill owed money to, wait nearly three years to come after the guy who lent Bill the money in the first place?" Steve suggested. Mark just shrugged.

"I don't know." He sighed.

* * *

"His place isn't much to look at on the outside, but he's made it livable." Stacy told Kat later at home. "It's still pretty sad though."

"Duh!" Kat exclaimed. "Joe Slighter. I've met his wife, Jane and their little girl Minnie. They're in the system right now. I had to try to help them find living arrangements. With all the different names and cases running through my brain lately, it just didn't click."

"Really? You know them?!" Mark, Steve, and Stacy all gaped.

"Yes." Kat nodded. "Joe's sister, Lillian is nice and very sweet to let Jane and Minnie stay with her. Jane's still trying to find a job."

"I wonder if we could do more to help them." Stacy said wistfully. "I feel so bad for them."

"Well, Kat honey is certainly doing her part!" Mark smiled proudly. Kat blushed.

"Yeah, well, I have some writing to do." Stacy said. "My mind is all wound up with words for my next article and I won't be able to settle down till I type them out!" She hurried to her bedroom and brought out her laptop, plus a legal pad and a pen.

"Well, I'm gonna talk to Marley's Furnishings' employees tomorrow." Steve said.

* * *

Joe Slighter's coworkers and his boss all had good things to say about him and no one raised any red flags in Steve's mind that would indicate someone would mean Joe harm. So Steve pulled up a background check on him. Nothing came up to raise any questions either. Steve was glad to resign his mind to the idea that the incident had been just an intended robbery-it wasn't like the city didn't have many of those-, and so far as he knew, Joe's wife and daughter were safe and hadn't been attacked, so he didn't pursue the matter much more except putting some officers on guard to keep an eye on Jane and Minnie, and focused on his other cases.

Mark visited Pastor Reynolds the next day, the pastor at the church that the Slighters used to go to. "Yes, I keep in touch with Joe and Jane." He said to Mark. "They are good people, Doctor."

"Sounds like you don't share your congregation's views on the matter." Mark said.

Pastor Reynolds sighed. "No. And I've tried to get them to see the error of their ways, but it hasn't done much good. You know, Doctor Sloan? Many people think someone labeled _Christian _makes the person immune to wrong choices, and or tragedy. But if that was true, we wouldn't even exist. We're humans just as much as anybody else, with all the needs, temptations, and hardships of others."

"People tend to think similarly of us doctors." Mark chided. Reynolds smiled. "I can't help but wonder, though. Have you made an effort to try to persuade your congregation to step up and help their neighbor?"

"I have, in the strongest but kindest terms I could come up with. But several members of Joe's former company have very easily been excessively influential in persecuting the Slighters for something that should be treated with compassion." Pastor Reynolds said.

"One more question, pastor. Do you know of anyone who is angry at Joe or his family, to the point that they would threaten his life?" Mark asked cautiously. The clergyman gaped at him in alarm.

"No! I know my people are very stubborn when it comes to always wanting to have the last word in a debate, but I don't believe any of them would go so far as that!" He exclaimed.

"But, you didn't expect them before to act so contemptuously either, did you?" Mark pointed out.

"No, that's true." Pastor Reynolds sighed.

"I'd like a list of the names of your congregation, particularly the men from Joe's former acquaintances." Mark said.

"Sure, doctor. But why?"

"A police investigation. Joe Slighter was attacked and threatened last night in his shack."

"What?!" Pastor Reynolds gasped.

"Somebody wanted some money that someone owed them."

"Joe doesn't have that kind of money."

"No. And we'd appreciate whatever cooperation you can give us, and to see that the same trouble doesn't find his family."

"You've got it, Doctor."

* * *

Two mornings later, Mark, Steve, Kat, and Stacy were all eating breakfast at BBQ Bob's before heading to work. "Kat, when are you supposed to see Jane Slighter again?" Mark asked.

"Not sure. Probably in about a month." Kat replied. Jesse solemnly walked up to their table, hiding something behind his back.

"Something wrong, Jesse?" Mark asked, a little concerned.

"Uh, yeah. There is." Jesse said hesitantly.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked. They were all looking up at him curiously with worry on their faces. "What are you hiding back there?" Jesse bit his lip and leaned in close to them.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of a bunch of people," He whispered, "but, Stacy? I thought you should see this." He put a rolled up newspaper into her hands. She flapped it open to the front page. Her jaw dropped as she read the headlines and her face clouded over. "I wanted you guys to see this before anyone here started talking about it." Jesse sighed.

"What's _this?!" _Stacy gasped angrily. "I didn't do this!"

"What's wrong, honey?" Steve stared at her with furrowed brows, wondering what could've made her so upset. Stacy shoved the paper to his side of the table.

"There. Read that!" She huffed.

"_**FORMER TYCOON USES DAUGHTER'S SUPPOSED NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE TO GAIN PUBLIC SYMPATHY", **_the article read. _"Joe Slighter, ex-chairman of Bartell's Industries has gone into hiding for the passed three years. Or has he? Two years ago, his young daughter, Minnie, was claimed to have nearly died from a car crash. It is a tragic tale of how she fought to survive, and how her precious parents scraped together to pay for the care she so desperately needed._

_But, Minnie is a perfectly healthy child to this day, and is no worse for wear from her 'traumatic experience as a crash victim'. Joe Slighter has been slumming it up since the company of Bartell's Industries crashed. The ex-chairman was desperate to hold his reputation in tact. So, he came up with a brilliant plan on how to get in good with the city again. Dramatize the circumstances by paying a few, thirsty news companies to say that his child was on death's doorstep. And a clever plan it was, gaining the readers' empathy to the point that they wanted to give donations. But we have learned from a reliable source that it was all a farce._

_Why, only three nights ago, one of the ex-employees of Slighter came to him asking for what was owed him, but Slighter refused! It is beginning to smell more and more as if Slighter embezzled his own company! And he is apparently hiding the money but at this time, we do not know where. No wonder things fell through, huh? Dead weight more or less. While we are joyful that little Minnie is healthy and happy, it is gross to think that a politician could be so crooked as to use his own family as a toll gate! Maybe now he will learn, sadly the hard way, that when you hit rock bottom, you've got to stand on your own two feet! _

_-Stacy Sloan"_

"Oh, honey," Mark gazed sympathetically.

"I knew about those things," Kat said, "but I never gave it to anyone for the press."

"Neither did I!" Stacy growled. "How could someone do this to them? It's so wrong! It goes against everything I've been saying in my next article."

"Stace, your name is on it." Steve said grimly.

"Well, _I _didn't put it there!" Stacy glared.

"Of course not. We know you didn't, Sweetie." Mark said calmly.

"I...I know _you _do," Stacy said slightly quieter. "But this is awful. Why can't people leave the Slighters alone?"

"It's so prejudiced." Kat said unhappily.

"I'm sorry, Stace." Jesse said fervently. "I shouldn't have shown it to you."

"No, I'm glad you did." Stacy argued. "I've gotta go. I wanna find out who did this. I'll see you later." She grabbed her purse and hurried outside to her car.

"Whoever wrote this is a complete idiot!" Kat fumed. "There was raw footage all over the news when Minnie got hurt, and yes, people donated, but all that money went to her medical bills. Oh, yes. And _I _have copies of her records I'd love to shove in this creep's face! And the hospital has them too!"

"And several other things mentioned don't add up at all." Steve frowned.

"I think I'd better try to talk to Joe." Mark said. "This is gonna hurt him and his family, worse than they deserve."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Dad?" Steve asked cautiously. "If he read the paper, I really don't think he wants to see any of _us _at the moment."

"Well, someone needs to try." Mark sighed. "Besides, I'm sure he could use a friend at this moment."

"Maybe you should wait and give him a chance to call you first." Kat suggested.

"Yeah, Mark." Jesse agreed.

"I just hope he doesn't think we betrayed him!" Mark exclaimed. Steve, Jesse, and Kat agreed.

* * *

When Stacy reached her workplace, she immediately told the director's secretary that she had to talk to her boss, Brandon Rutherford right away. The secretary paged him and he told her to send Stacy in. Stacy wasted no time and briskly entered his office after knocking. "Sloan, just the one I wanted to see." Mr. Rutherford said. "I was just getting ready to send for you. Will you sit down?"

"No thank you, Sir." Stacy said flatly. "I really don't feel like sitting down."

Mr. Rutherford nodded. "Sloan, what brings you here?" He asked.

"This!" Stacy wailed, and slapped the newspaper down on his desk. "Have you read it, Sir?"

"Do you have a problem with it?" Mr. Rutherford raised his eyebrows.

"_Yes." _Stacy said defensively.

"What's your problem?"

"I didn't do it, Sir!" Stacy blurted out. "I had nothing to do with this. And in the first place, it was written with no consideration for the Slighter family at all! It's based on lies and juicy speculation! And my dad and sister can attest to that with proof."

"Tell me about it." Mr. Rutherford said cooly, sitting back in his desk chair and crossing his arms.

"In the first place, the Slighters shouldn't be picked on just because they've fallen on hard times." Stacy said firmly. "That's prejudice, and so against what this country is all about."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't exist here." Rutherford spoke up.

"I know, but that doesn't make it right!" Stacy huffed.

"Go on."

"The Slighters are just a family who want to quietly live their lives and not give anyone any trouble, that's all. They've had a really rough time and are trying to make end's meet. They need help, not bigots."

"You make a very strong point, Sloan." Rutherford rubbed his chin.

"Sir, I didn't write that thing. I gave Mr. Slighter my word that I wouldn't, and you can ask anybody, I had not intention of publicizing this family's troubles! I didn't! And several of the accusations made in there can be answered by the police. Whoever wrote this twisted everything into a scandal, and it is far from the real facts!"

"Are you finished?"

"Sir, do you know who did write that?" Stacy asked, taking a deep breath after her spiel.

"No, Sloan. I don't." Rutherford shook his head. "But I assure you, I'm going to have a discussion with whoever did."

"You will?" Stacy's eyes lit up. "So, you believe me, and you don't think this was okay just because of our Constitutional rights, freedom of the press?"

"No, I don't." Rutherford said, standing up. "You see, Sloan, the article was only brought to my attention half an hour ago by Bob Mosher. He was upset about the content also, plus he insisted that you would never write such a thing. But, there was really no need for that."

"There wasn't?" Stacy asked.

"No. I didn't think that was you who typed this," Rutherford said. "It's not like you, and just not your style."

"Th-thank you." Stacy bit her lip.

"Now, I will get to the bottom of this." Rutherford said firmly. "You just do your regular work and let me handle it, you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Stacy sighed. "But, what about the Slighters? This is going to hurt them."

Rutherford grunted loudly. "Well, all I can say is that you do your best to help smooth out the rough edges."

"I don't know if I can." Stacy said.

"Well, try." Rutherford said.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Mark drove to Marley's Furnishings after leaving BBQ Bob's. He entered inside and went to the administrator. "Hello, I'm Dr. Mark Sloan. I was wondering if I could speak with Joe Slighter?"

"Oh, well, he's not here." The woman said. "He didn't come to work at all this morning."

"Oh." Mark's face fell. "Is he not feeling well?"

"He's taken a personal day."

"I see." Mark nodded. "Well, thank you very much." He gazed around at the workers and environment before departing. As he was about to reach his car, he saw a familiar figure walking up to him. "Stacy, what are you doing here?" Mark asked.

"I guess the same thing you are." Stacy said. Just then, Mark's phone rang.

"Mark Sloan." He answered, then he grimaced. "Joe?" Stacy looked up expectantly. "Yes...she's right here." Mark eyed Stacy cautiously. "He wants to talk to you." Stacy gulped and took the phone.

"Hello? Mr. Slighter?" She spoke nervously.

"Miss Sloan," Joe spoke on the other end. He was very upset.

"Look, Mr. Slighter, I..." Stacy began.

"I have just one thing to say to you, Miss Sloan," Joe cut her off. "Stay away from my family." And with that, he hung up.

"But..." Stacy tried to speak, but it was too late. "He hung up." She looked up at Mark. He looked at her grimly.

"I'll see if I can do something about that." He said, patting her shoulder.

"Let me go with you." Stacy pleaded.

"Oh, honey. I _really _don't think that's the right thing to do right now." Mark shook his head.

"Please, I have to talk to him!" Stacy begged.

"All right." Mark nodded. "But I don't think this is the best time."

* * *

Mark called Steve and told him where they were going. Steve wasn't happy with the idea, but he admired his father's and daughter's sense of justice. He only hoped it would help fix what damage had already been done. Mark pulled up beside Joe Slighter's shack. He sighed and looked over at Stacy who was taking in deep breaths. "Stacy, I'd feel a lot better if you let me try to talk to him." Mark said.

"I know, Grandpa." Stacy nodded. "But I have to try. You've always told us to tell the truth, no matter how painful or ugly."

"And I wouldn't tell you to back out now." Mark smiled thoughtfully.

"No." Stacy agreed. They both got out of the car, and walked up to the rugged door. Though she was a grown woman now and capable of taking responsibility for herself, Stacy was extremely grateful that Mark was here with her. He had a very special gift of earning people's trust just by his kindness, and he could often bring them to reason too when they were acting out of emotions. She certainly hoped he could accomplish that this time too!

Mark knocked on the door. "Joe?" He called. "Joe, it's Mark Sloan! Joe, I know you're upset and probably don't want to see me, but...I just want to help you! I think we need to talk. Please, Joe." The door opened and Joe Slighter appeared. He looked more haggard than when they saw him the other night. And he looked extremely ticked off, a rarity for him. "Joe..."

"What's _she _doing here, Doctor Sloan?" Joe asked gruffly, gazing accusingly at Stacy.

"I'm here because I have to tell you something." Stacy spoke up for herself. "Please listen to me!"

"You promised not to mention us in the paper!" Joe growled, but there was an evident hurt in his voice. "You promised, but now I can see how much that was worth." Stacy bit her lip.

"Mr. Slighter, I'm so sorry for what was printed in that paper." She said sadly. "It was written with complete malice, and I'm so sorry! But I didn't break my promise! It wasn't me. I would never write that."

"Why should I believe you?" Joe glared. "Your name is on it and you were the only reporter who knew about it!"

"Please believe me, I don't know who did this or how my name got on it. But I wouldn't deliberately try to hurt you or your family."

"Tell that to my wife." Joe said flatly.

"She's telling the truth, Joe." Mark said.

"It's too late, Doctor Sloan." Joe muttered. "All of your well-worded apologies won't be able to shield my Jane or Minnie from the ridicule we've got now. This...this _b-_painted me into a selfish, money-hungry snob who uses his family as collateral! My family doesn't deserve this! I thought I'd made that very clear. They're hurting and there is no reason for it."

"No, there isn't." Mark and Stacy agreed.

"Miss Sloan, I'd appreciate it very much if you would leave...right now." Joe said firmly.

"Joe, I'm..." Stacy tried to talk.

"I don't need your kind hanging around, weaseling information to satisfy yourself with a juicy story, at the cost of innocent people." Joe glowered. "If you have any consideration for us like you say that you do, you'll leave my property...now, and won't come back!" Stacy stood there, biting her lip.

"Go ahead, honey." Mark said gently, touching her shoulder. "I think it's best."

"I'm very sorry." Stacy said mournfully, giving one last pleading, determined look at the run down man who looked as if he'd aged ten years in just a few minutes. Stacy walked away to the car.

"I don't want to see you around here again." Joe reminded her. Stacy climbed into the front passenger's seat of the car. "I'm sorry to have had to be so harsh with a member of your family, Doctor Sloan." Joe said. "But you must understand how much this is going to do to my family."

"I know, Joe and I'm very sorry." Mark said calmly. "But you must trust me. I can say without any doubt that Stacy didn't do this to you. She would never commit such a thing."

"I'd appreciate it if you'll just leave me alone." Joe said, turning toward the door.

"Joe, please. Let's go inside and talk." Mark prodded.

"Good-bye, Doctor." Joe snapped and shut the door. Mark sighed heavily and went to his car.

"Stacy?" He prodded gently inside.

"I hate this!" Stacy cried. "Why do so many media members intentionally abuse their rights just to hurt others and build up a name for themselves?"

"Greed, and selfishness." Mark simply stated.

"But it's not worth that." Stacy hung her head. "Maybe I can talk with Joe's wife. Maybe she'll listen."

"I'm taking you home." Mark interjected.

"But..." Stacy tried to protest.

"Honey, listen. We know the truth, and you've said your peace. I can't remember ever seeing Joe Slighter so angry. He needs time, honey, to sort this out. Let's just give him the space he needs, and try to help his family however we can." Mark said. Stacy looked at him sadly.

"All right." She threw her hands up in resignation. "I hope Mr. Rutherford can reprimand who did this."

"So do I." Mark nodded.

* * *

Stacy tried again and again to call Joe to tell him how sorry she was and that she didn't scandalize them, but he never returned her calls or answered. "How is his family?" She asked Kat as they and Steve walked together on the beach.

"They're doing pretty good." Kat replied. "I don't think they know about any of this. Jane doesn't read the paper anymore, not after the company dropped."

"Well, there's a mixed blessing." Steve said.

"Dad, any ideas on who attacked him?"

"Nope." Steve shook his head. "It's beginning to look more like just a failed robbery."

"I hope Joe calms down soon, though if someone did that to my family I'd be furious too." Kat remarked.

"But he won't even give me a chance to set it right." Stacy groaned.

"It's not your job to make it right," Kat spoke up. "You're not the one who did it, so the one who did it should be the one to straighten it out."

"Like they're going to do that." Steve said skeptically. "Kat's right, Stace."

"So, what am I supposed to do?" Stacy groaned.

"Be a friend." Kat said.

* * *

**Who wrote that? And where did they get all those confidential details? And just who is this reliable source?**


	3. Chapter 3 Bad News

Steve had joined Mark, Amanda, and Jessie as usual in the doctor's lounge for a cup of coffee before his job schedule could suddenly tug him away without a moment of quiet. Steve had just sat down when his phone rang. "Just my luck." He muttered. "Hello? Sloan here." Steve spoke into his phone. "What? When?" His serious tone implied to his onlookers that it he was hearing bad news. But, being a homicide detective, he got that a lot in his line of work. "Yeah. All right." He hung up.

"What is it, Steve?" Mark asked.

Steve sighed. "That was Cheryl. They found Joe Slighter in his apartment half an hour ago...dead." The others gasped.

"Hey, isn't that the guy that Stacy interviewed who..." Jessie rambled.

"Yes." Mark nodded sadly. "How did it happen, Steve?"

"It looks like a suicide. They even found a note on his table." Steve muttered.

"Oh, man." Amanda shook her head. "Stacy's going to feel awful."

"I know." Steve said lowly. "Well, I've got to get over there."

* * *

Cheryl met Steve outside when he arrived at Joe Slighter's shack. They both walked inside. "So, who found him?" Steve asked.

"A neighbor who checks in on him once in a while." Cheryl answered. "She brought him dinner and got worried when he didn't answer the door after she repeatedly called him. She rushed in and found him hanging from the ceiling fan, strung up with a bathrobe sash around his throat. She panicked and called us."

* * *

At the beach house, everyone was snacking on the junk food set out in front of them. "I still wish Alex could've made it." Kat said.

"I know, honey. But he couldn't get away." Mark smiled.

"With our crazy work schedules, it's a wonder we see each other at all." Kat muttered. She and Alex had been dating for over a year.

Annie the Labrador barked when she heard the front door open and ran to greet Steve. "Oh, good. He's back." Jessie smiled.

"Not good for _you." _Amanda teased. "You ate half the bag of Doritos before he got here."

"I did not!" Jessie protested. "I saved a _little_ for you guys, and him." Steve quietly stepped into the sitting room. "Hey, Steve!"

"Hi, Dad." Stacy and Kat said together. Steve silently nodded.

"How about some snacks?" Mark offered. "You look like you could use it."

"No thanks, I'm not hungry." Steve refused. "Maybe later. Stacy, can you come with me for a minute? I need to talk to you."

"Uh, okay." Stacy shrugged and stood up.

"In the kitchen." Steve said.

"All right." Stacy said timidly. His manner reminded her of when she was a little girl and had broken one of the household rules. So she nervously walked into the kitchen.

"Be back in a minute." Steve stated. "Hey, Dad! Keep Jessie away from the Doritos! I might want some later." Then he walked away.

"He's gonna have it in for you." Kat teased Jessie.

"Eh. What's the worst that can happen?" Jessie shrugged. "He can't hit me. Or get me arrested."

"Steve's telling her about Joe Slighter, isn't he?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah." Mark nodded sadly. "I'll be back in a minute, guys." Then he rose from the couch and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

"What is it, Dad?" Stacy asked with nervously raised eyebrows. "Did I do something?"

"Now why would you ask that?" Steve asked with furrowed brows. He actually slightly grinned.

"This just reminds me of when I was little and I did something wrong." Stacy explained. "Your stance, your voice, your whole manner is the same way it was then when you'd find me guilty of one of the household misdemeanors." Steve snickered a little. Mark stifled a chuckle as he leaned against the wall.

"Oh. Are you saying I was that much of a monster?" Steve teased with raised eyebrows.

"Well, nooo," Stacy said sheepishly, biting her lip. "It's just...having a cop for a dad, especially when you get in trouble, it's...well, you know. It _isn't _fun. You're a big guy, Dad. And...well, when you get into stern cop mode, it...you can be very intimidating."

"I'm glad to hear that. Means I'm doing my job right." Steve cocked his head triumphantly. "Nah, you're in the clear tonight." Steve smiled, but it quickly faded. He sighed heavily. "Stacy, I have to tell you something. Joe Slighter is dead." He said bluntly. Stacy's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"_What?"_ She sputtered. "He is?!"

"Yes. I went over to his apartment myself. He's dead, hon." Steve said solemnly.

"Oh no!" Stacy cried, raising her hand to her mouth. "That's awful! Oh, Dad, this is horrible!"

Mark looked on sympathetically. "I know." Steve nodded soberly and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, honey."

"But, what about his wife and daughter? Do they know?"

"Yes, I'm afraid they do by now." Steve grimaced. He'd had the unpleasant duty of telling them.

"How did it happen, Dad?" Stacy begged to know. Steve gritted his teeth. This was the question he'd been dreading.

"It looks like he committed suicide, honey."

"Nooo," Stacy grimaced and shook her head. She raised her wrist to her mouth. Then her eyes narrowed. "It was because of the article, wasn't it?" Stacy asked vehemently as hot tears streamed down her face. She was angry now.

"Stace," Steve began. He'd wanted so badly to spare her this pain, knowing she'd feel responsible though she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Dad, it's all over your face." Stacy moaned. "He took his life because of that scandalous report..._didn't he?! _And what's gonna happen now to his family?" She clenched her teeth and covered her face with her hand.

"It wasn't your fault, honey." Mark spoke up as he appeared behind her. He patted her back softly.

"Excuse me, please!" She shook her head and headed for her bedroom. Steve stared at the floor. Mark glanced sympathetically at him.

"Come on, Steve. We have company." Mark said encouragingly.

"Yeah." Steve muttered and joined Kat, Amanda, Jessie, and Annie in the sitting room.

A half hour later, Mark quietly peered inside Stacy's bedroom door. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning against the wall. She hung her head, her long blonde hair outlining her face, and there were still tears in her eyes. Mark watched sadly and walked in. He sat on the bed and wrapped his arm around her. "Honey, I'm sorry." He said softly.

"Oh, Grandpa," she whimpered and buried her face in his shoulder. He embraced her warmly.

"Shh. Shh, it's all right." Mark whispered gently, holding her close. "It wasn't your fault."

"But I feel responsible!"

* * *

"Amanda, could you put a rush on Joe Slighter's autopsy? For Stacy?" Mark asked sadly.

"Certainly. I can do that." Amanda nodded.

"Thanks, honey."


	4. Chapter 4 Conflicting Theories

Mark, Steve, and Stacy were home at the beach house. Stacy was staring again and again at the malicious article in the paper, and Mark was reading his own copy. Stacy shook her head and leaned forward in her chair, setting down the paper on the table. "It just doesn't line up." She stated wearily. "He couldn't have done it." The two men stared at her in bewilderment.

"Honey, I know you feel bad for what happened," Steve began.

"No, it really _doesn't_ make sense." Stacy cut him off. "I don't believe he killed himself." She looked up at Mark and Steve.

"What makes you say that, Stacy?" Mark asked curiously. He was very interested in what she had to say.

"I just...he had too much responsibility on his shoulders, and his family depending heavily on him for provision." Stacy explained. "And I know he loved them. I don't think he would have left them to fend for themselves. How could he? He didn't leave them when they lost their house and all of that mess happened. No, he stayed for them and then worked hard to see that they were taken care of." Steve leaned forward with his palms on the table.

"Stacy, listen to me." He grunted firmly. She timidly obeyed. "Joe Slighter was a poor man, and he couldn't afford a house for his family."

"That wasn't his fault." Stacy said defensively.

"I know. But he couldn't handle the pressure anymore, especially after his family was disgraced."

"Dad, we don't know that." Stacy sighed.

"And _you _don't know that he didn't take his own life." Steve growled. "Stacy, you're letting your feelings of false guilt try to change the circumstances. Well, sorry, but in life, that doesn't happen. Stop trying to be like your Grandpa. Stop seeing things that aren't there! Stop trying to be something you're not!" Stacy's face was breaking up with emotion.

"Steve, calm down." Mark interjected, taken aback at his son's unexpected outburst.

"Stacy, you are NOT responsible for his death! You hear me? He killed himself and you're just gonna have to accept that." Steve said flatly. "I don't want you to go poking your nose around looking for information that says otherwise when there is none. Do you understand? I forbid it!" Steve glared, pointing his index finger. Stacy stared at him with a defeated countenance, her eyes growing misty. She didn't say a word. She just grimaced then rose from the table and left the room. Steve sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Steve, what was all that about?" Mark asked confused. "Don't you think you were a bit harsh with her? What brought this on?"

"I don't know, Dad." Steve groaned, rubbing his face. "I...I never intended to see my daughters carry such heavy responsibilities and burdens on their shoulders. It isn't pretty."

"But, you knew that someday it would happen." Mark corrected him.

"Yeah, I know. I guess, now that it's here, I don't know what to do with it."

"Steve, you've known full well what responsibilities and burdens would be cast on them if something happened to you, but you didn't quit your dangerous job because of it, did you?" Mark asked.

"I came really close to it, after Julie died." Steve confessed.

"Son, they're not little girls anymore." Mark said softly, rubbing Steve's back. "I know it's hard, not wanting to see them hurt. And wishing you could carry the weight for them. I completely understand what that feels like! Believe me! But you've trained and raised them all these years to be able to stand on their own two feet and persevere, whether you or I was around to help or not. Well, now you get to see the fruits of your labors."

"I just wish life wasn't so..."

"Cruel." Mark finished for him. "Don't we all! But Stacy and Katherine are adults now, both bright young women who are ready to take on bigger challenges that come their way. I think you should tell Stacy right now how proud you really are of her, instead of treating her like she's still a child. Besides, don't you remember that there's Someone bigger than either you or me, who can help them through life?" Steve cleared his throat. "You are proud of her, aren't you, Steve?"

"Of course, you know I am." Steve answered. "I'm proud of both of them, more than I can say."

"Go talk to her, son. She'll listen."

"I'm not so sure about that, Dad." Steve said skeptically.

"Well, I am. Go ahead, Steve. She'll listen to you." Mark said encouragingly.

"All right." Steve sighed after taking a deep breath. Then he bravely headed for Stacy's bedroom. Mark was so right, but there was another nagging reason that Steve had blown his top, and he had to be honest about it. He sheepishly peeked inside her doorway. Stacy was lying flat on her stomach on her bed, shaking and rubbing her head, and...crying quietly. Steve pursed his lips. He was disgusted with himself for his rash behavior. He was only trying to protect her! What was he going to say? He gulped and quietly walked to the bed. "S-Stace?" He cleared his throat.

"Hmm?" She moaned.

"Uh, can I talk to you?"

"Mmm-hmm." Stacy nodded, still covering her face. Steve sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned with his elbows on his knees. He sighed and rubbed his hands together.

"Look, honey...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped all over you like that." He said simply. Stacy only nodded in response. "Dad reminded me that you're a woman now, and not a little girl anymore. And I...I treated you like a child. I'm sorry for that too."

"Yeah." Stacy sighed.

"Hey, could you please turn around so I at least know you're listening?" Steve asked. Stacy lowered her hands from her face and lay on them with her head. But she was facing his direction now, yet she kept her eyes down. Her face was tear-stained. She sniffled as she let him talk, tracing her finger on the outline design of her blanket. "Thank you." Steve cleared his throat again, not sure where to go with this next. "You know, when your first told me that you were actually going to pursue your career as a reporter, especially for the paper, I wasn't surprised. But you know what did surprise me?"

"What?" Stacy asked quietly.

"That you wanted to be an _investigative _reporter." Steve said. "I mean, after all these years, and all the dangerous situations that have happened to all of us, I'd think you'd want to stay away from law enforcement-type work. You certainly surprised me, and so did Kat with her career choice."

"I chose it for a reason." Stacy said with a sniffle.

"Do you mind telling me what that was?"

"I wanted to help catch the bad guys." Stacy sighed.

"Really?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"I wanted to publicly stand up for people who have been publicly and politically wronged. I wanted to flush out the crooked bureaucrats who too often get away with their selfish haughtiness. Dad, too many times no one stands up to them or bothers to dig into their skeletons, and growing up, I've seen how terribly it hindered you and Grandpa from solving cases and helping people. And it sometimes cost people their lives. Well, I feel that God can really use me at the paper doing that kind of work.

'And it feels so good to know that now I can help _you_ in your work. I've been wanting to do that since I was little. Over the years, I wanted so badly to be involved and help you guys in solving cases, but you guys always said no, because we were just kids, or it was too dangerous. There was always something. Oh, they were perfectly sound reasons, Dad! But, it always made feel...you know. And now, Kat and I both feel so useful. It's a wonderful feeling.'"

Steve smiled.

"I never knew that." He stated, now feeling even more angry at himself for having lost it. _And I almost killed off her desire to be useful...again. Boy, she certainly __**isn't **__a child anymore! _

"Grandpa does. He has for a long time." Stacy sighed heavily and wiped her eye.

"Honey," Steve leaned over her, "I don't like seeing your job making you this unhappy." He stated.

"But it's no different from _your _job, or Grandpa's, or Kat's." Stacy interjected. "Sometimes it gets ugly."

"True," Steve nodded. "But I don't enjoy it. I wish there was something I could do to make it less hurtful." He touched her arm.

"I know." She sadly smiled.

"Stace, I've got to tell you something." Steve said seriously, staring at the wall.

_Oh no, there's that tone again! _Stacy's thoughts panicked. It always scared Stacy when Steve spoke that way, ever since he'd told her and Kat that their mommy was very sick. _"What?"_ She asked with a little more fright in her voice than she intended to show.

"The day you officially became an investigative reporter, was one of the most terrifying days of my life." Steve explained, looking away. Stacy's eyes widened and she turned on her side, sitting up.

"_You _were scared? Of what?" Stacy asked incredulously. "_What _could possibly scare you?"

"Stace," Steve looked directly at her. "Investigating, digging into crime, exposing cons, that's a

very dangerous business. I've always wanted you girls to be safe. Now you're stepping out into the world, making your ways, and you've chosen a field that includes many risks. I can't watch you walk out the door the same way anymore."

"Dad," Stacy interjected. "It's not like your job. It's not as if I walk around and carry a badge with me...or a gun!" She slightly joked.

"It _can _be pretty chancy." Steve warned. "Now, everyday I always have to say a prayer for your safety as you head off to work."

"I do that for all of us, any time we go _anywhere." _Stacy said.

"Well, yeah." Steve agreed. "But, I know what it's like out there, and I know the kind of perilous trouble you can get into. Honey," Steve leaned closer to her, "I want you to be really careful. I know you're a big girl now, but that doesn't mean you can handle everything."

"I learned that a _long_ time ago." Stacy chuckled.

"Stacy, sweetie, I just don't want anything to happen to you." Steve said tenderly. "I know that doesn't excuse my behavior earlier, but it's true." He gripped her arm. "I couldn't bear it if you got hurt, or...or if I lost you, _any _of you guys. Especially if I wasn't there to prevent it. I just want you to be safe. Do you understand?"

"Of course." Stacy replied. "I guess when I mentioned my hunch, it made you all jumpy, and all these scenarios started going around in your head."

"That's about it." Steve nodded. "But, you understand why I don't want you to be diving around headfirst into things you're not sure about?"

"Yes." Stacy sighed. "But it's part of my job now, and I'll try to be careful, Dad. I will."

"Thank you." Steve said lowly. "So...does that mean I'm forgiven?" Stacy chuckled, sitting up, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise, then returned the embrace. "Well, I certainly didn't see _that _coming!" He snickered and Stacy pulled away. "If that's not forgiven, I don't know what is." Stacy slightly grinned, then stared down at the blanket they were sitting on. "Hey, there's something I forgot to tell you." Steve smiled warmly.

"What's that?" Stacy asked quietly.

"I'm really proud of you, Stacy Sloan."

"You are?" Stacy smiled.

"_Very _proud, of you and Kat. You're bright young women now, you know what you want to do in the world, but you're also decent, and caring. I wouldn't have either of you any other way."

"Thank you, Dad." Stacy smiled wryly. "I'm glad to hear you say that."

"Well, you think you can bear to be seen with me before your grandpa thinks I've been locked out?" Steve joked.

"_Maybe."_ Stacy teased, then rose to her feet.

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better!" Steve shook his head sarcastically, smiling and followed her.

"By the way, _what _is it that makes you so sure that Joe Slighter didn't kill himself?" Steve asked as they headed back to the dining room.

"You still think I'm wrong about that?" Stacy asked back.

"I didn't say that. I do not agree, but I would really like to know why you feel that way."

"I don't exactly know, Dad." Stacy shook her head. "I...I just keep getting this nagging feeling, and it won't go away. I...I feel like his death is a little too open shut, especially knowing the kind of man he was. Now, I know that you aren't into writing."

"No, I sure am not!" Steve agreed. "That's way out of my line."

"Well, it feels like when I get ideas for my stories. You know, sometimes my imagination will keep building something up. It could be a plot, certain scenes, or whatever. But it sounds to me like it would make a good story, and...and it keeps building up more and more and I think about it _all _the time, at least 'til I put it down together on paper.

'Well, that's what it feels like, and I've got this strong, recurring thought that we should look at Joe's life a little closer. I can't hurt anything, can it, Dad? I mean, it's not wrong to make sure you're not second-guessing yourself is it?'"

"All right. You've got me _there." _Steve sighed. "Stace, I'm not going to forbid you from testing the waters. _But, _I don't want you to go looking for things that aren't there. Okay?"

"I'm looking for what _could be _there, Dad but might've been overlooked. I just have a strong hunch." Stacy replied. "If I turn out to be wrong, okay. I'm wrong. But how will we know that for sure if we don't look?"

"You _have _been hanging around your grandpa too much." Steve muttered sarcastically.

"Thanks." Stacy smiled, cocking her head and walked away.

* * *

"Okay, so let's just say, for argument's sake, it _was_ a suicide." Steve stated later, earning him a frown from Stacy. "If he was the kind of man you say he was, if he was going to take his life, surely he would've come up with a way for his wife and daughter to be provided for. But how? The man was poor."

"But he did have an established job." Mark interjected. "Which means surely he would've kept a..."

"Life insurance policy!" Kat finished. "Why didn't we think of that before?" Stacy's eyes lit up.

"Of course!" Stacy agreed. "If he was going to kill himself, he would've turned in the policy to _someone _and told them to give the money to his family."

"I can talk to his wife, and her sister, ask if he'd given it to them, or hinted around that it might've been needed." Kat suggested.

"Good idea, Kat." Mark smiled. "Let us know what you find out."

"I'll go to his place of employment and ask his boss the same thing." Steve said.

"Can I go with you, Dad?" Stacy asked eagerly. Steve seemed to be considering the option.

"I guess so," he said. "It'll either confirm or contradict _one _of our theories."

"Thanks." Stacy smiled.

"Well, you all go digging. Let me know how it goes." Mark chuckled at his family.

"I'm not trying to compete with you, Dad. That's not what this is about." Stacy said with puppy dog eyes as they reached Steve's car.

"Oh, well. Good to see we're working on the same side." Steve said sarcastically. "We are, aren't we?"

"_Yes." _Stacy shook her head. "We may have different ideas, but I'd much rather be working with you on this than against you."

"Why are you so adamant about this, Stacy?" Steve asked.

"Dad, he was my client." Stacy sighed. "Whoever did write that article isn't going to come forward, but I feel that if we leave his deed unturned, that we'll always look back on thinking that we could've done more." Steve nodded with a warm smile. "Besides, this is a chance I've been waiting for, for years."

"What?" Steve inquired.

"A chance to be like_ you." _Stacy grinned. Steve reared his head back, half laughing and half groaning. For years, he'd been surrounded by his dad and ambitious friends who wanted to help him in solving crime. Sometimes it had been more of a hassle than help, and other times it had been a heavy burden on his heart when they'd been endangered. When Julie had made him a father, he'd hoped that his children would be the ones in his close-knit family circle to step away from the world of law enforcement and go down totally different paths. Much to his chagrin, that hadn't turned out to be the case.

"Then why didn't you become a cop like me, huh?" Steve teased.

"_Dad," _Stacy rolled her eyes. "I wanted to be different, and so did Kat, ways of helping you solve crimes, but in our own ways, and within our own loop holes where sometimes bureaucrats and or bosses won't let you tread."

"How does that work?"

"You know, there are some tough nuts to crack. And some of them you know what they're up to, but they won't always talk to you. That's where the power of the press comes in. You see, here's the picture, they clam up to you and we play hard ball with the option of public exposure. You'd be surprised at how many people suddenly start talking when they're afraid everyone's gonna find out their secrets!" Stacy smiled. "It sometimes opens doors just as much as the badge."

"Mmm." Steve grunted


	5. Chapter 5 It was Murder!

As Steve and Stacy left Joe Slighter's former place of employment, Steve's phone rang as they clambered back into his car. "Yeah, Sloan here." He answered. "Dad? What's up? Okay, thanks." He said as he hung up. "That was Dad. He says that Amanda found something in Joe Slighter's autopsy that she said we need to see!" Stacy's eyes widened.

"Should we ask Kat to meet us there?" She asked eagerly.

"That might be a good idea." Steve agreed.

* * *

Kat joined them at the hospital and they all walked into Amanda's pathology lab. "Oh, hey." Amanda smiled as she glanced up at them. Mark was already there.

"What's going on?" Kat asked.

"You said there was something we needed to see?" Steve inquired as they entered.

"Yes." Amanda nodded, setting aside the clipboard on her desk and walked over to the cadaver table.

"Stacy? Honey, first of all, I want to tell you that Joe's death was not your fault." Mark spoke. Stacy hung her head.

"Thanks." She sighed.

"No, I'm not just saying that." Mark smiled.

"I'm not sure if this will make you feel better or worse," Amanda said as she pulled the cover down, revealing Joe Slighter's lifeless face. Stacy cringed and Kat patted her shoulder. Amanda cleared her throat and continued. "The police are ruling Joe Slighter's death as a suicide, right?" She eyed Steve.

"Right." Steve muttered, still feeling like the bad guy here.

"_Wrong_." Amanda smirked.

"What?" Steve, Stacy, and Kat all gaped.

"If you look closely at Joe's throat, you'll see bruises around it." Amanda explained. They all gazed intently at Joe's neck. Sure enough, there were round, purplish impressions on it.

"So...you're saying he was strangled?" Kat raised her eyebrows.

"Choked." Amanda corrected. "But that's not what killed him!"

"What do you mean?" Stacy furrowed her brows, more confused.

"The bruises aren't all Amanda found." Mark said and lifted the flap of the sheet over to reveal the back of Joe's right shoulder blade. "Now, if you look closely _here, _you'll notice a small jab wound." He pointed to the upper side of the back of the shoulder and there was a very small but bruise colored puncture.

"You're saying he was drugged?!" Steve sputtered in astonishment.

"Uh-huh." Amanda nodded. "I ran a tox screen on him and look at what turned up in his blood." She handed the folder to Stacy. Steve and Kat read the paper from over her shoulder.

"Phenobarbital?" Steve sputtered. "Was Joe Slighter taking medication?"

"No." Mark shook his head. "We called his personal physician. Joe was not on any medication at all."

"There wasn't a trace of any other drugs in his system. Aside from the phenobarbital, he was clean." Amanda added. "He had a lethal dosage though at the time of his death."

"So, he drugged himself then hung himself?" Stacy asked absent-mindedly.

"Then why were there bruises around his throat when he was strung up with a bathrobe sash?" Kat rolled her eyes.

"Oh, right." Stacy mumbled, embarrassed.

"Joe didn't give himself that injection. Someone else gave it to him!" Mark announced.

"How do you know that?" Steve asked skeptically.

"Well, Joe was right-handed, so there's no way he could've reached that far back and given himself that injection, not from The angle we found it at."

"Couldn't he have used his left hand?"

"No." Mark shook his head. "Not a direct hit like that."

"And take a look at this." Amanda spoke up, holding up Joe's limp right hand. "I found blood and skin tissue under his fingernails."

"So...he _was _murdered?" Stacy asked unhappily.

"It certainly looks that way." Amanda nodded. Stacy wrapped her arms around herself and walked to the hallway, just standing there. Amanda cleared her throat. "Someone was trying to dose Joe with a fatal injection, and from the blood and the bruises, looks like he tried to put up a fight to defend himself."

"Just a regular dose of phenobarbital alone would've made him compliant to his attacker's favor, but apparently someone really wanted him dead." Mark added.

"But why kill him at all?" Kat furrowed her brows. "He was pretty poor. It's not like he was a threat to anyone."

"Well, apparently someone must have thought he was." Mark stated.

Steve glanced back at his somber daughter. She stood with her back to him, rubbing her arms. Steve didn't like her being part of this conversation. He felt bad for her. Her hunch about this had turned out to be true after all, yet that was the ugly part. It proved that Joe hadn't killed himself out of spite because of their misunderstanding, but now she still felt bad because some skunk had murdered an innocent man, a good provider for no good reason. Steve walked over to her. "It wasn't your fault, honey." He said quietly. Stacy hung her head. "You know how the press is...twisting unsaid words into something they're not meant to be."

"Yeah, well...I don't like it!" Stacy said adamantly. "He begged me not to publish that information, and I gave my word. Yet someone used it to poke fun at his pain. And now he's dead! I _don't _appreciate that!"

Steve gently rubbed her shoulder, feeling awful for how miserable this was making her. "Listen, Stace...I'm sorry for the way things turned out." He cleared his throat. "Honey, you proved your point. So...let me handle the rest. Okay?"

Stacy lifted her eyes and looked up directly at her father. "Dad? I...I really…I want to help you find his killer." She stated confidently. Steve was taken aback a little.

"_Stace,"_ he began quietly, starting to shake his head. "I know you're feeling bad, but..."

"Dad, _please!" _Stacy pleaded. "You and I both know that I didn't write that article, but Joe Slighter didn't, and neither does his family. I want to know who did this and why! The least we

can do is find the fiend that did this and try to protect his family from more slander. I feel the paper owes him that much, I feel I owe him that much. I have a responsibility now, Dad. For years, I've wanted to help you fight evil on the job, but I always had to sit on the sidelines. _Now, _I can do something. Please don't say no, Dad. It's my job! Please, Dad. Please?"

Steve sighed, staring thoughtfully at her. In his heart, Stacy and Katherine would always be his little girls, but it was at moments like these that he realized that they were now truly grown women, both with ambitions and passion for their dreams, not only that, but also for justice and all things good. Here was his child, no longer a child, stepping up to right a wrong that she didn't do, but feeling responsible to set it straight. Her mind was made up, and besides, if he said no, it would be driving her crazy wondering what really did happen to Slighter, and coming up with all the reasons she could think of to be out there figuring it out. He smiled warmly. "All right." He agreed, nodding. "If that's what you want."

"Thank you, Dad!" Stacy smiled sadly, hugging him.

"But listen to me," Steve said firmly, pulling her back. "I want you to be careful, hon. Yes, I was wrong about this, and I'm sorry for how unhappy it's made you. But I really want you to be careful. It can get ugly out there, catching murderers and exposing high-riding criminals. I _don't _want you getting hurt! Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Stacy nodded. "But if you and I work together on this, with you around, how can I get hurt?" She grinned.

"Well, I talked to Mrs. Slighter and Joe's attorney." Kat spoke up. "He didn't turn in his life insurance policy."


	6. Chapter 6 Help from an Old Friend

"So, he didn't turn in his insurance policy either." Steve sighed, leaning against one of the counters with a hand on his hip. As usual, this homicide case was not as cut and dry as he had hoped. "So, where do we go from here?"

"First of all, who would want to kill Joe?" Mark spoke.

"Well, it couldn't be his brother. If Joe was dead, where else is he gonna go now for money to waste on his dead beat life?" Kat remarked.

"He used to be a really rich man." Mark stated. "But all that changed when he wouldn't go through with any dirty deals. He tried to do it right and got shut down for it by the competitors. And he was blamed."

"Maybe some disgruntled former employee or coworker is still bitter." Steve suggested.

"What about Joe's wife, Jane?" Amanda suggested. "Maybe she could enlighten us on some things."

"Minnie was actually patient here at Community General, after she was released from the children's hospital downtown." Kat said. "Her mom told me."

"How is Minnie doing now, honey?" Mark asked Kat.

"Great. She's a pretty normal kid now, which is a miracle! But she has some scars from the accident."

"Well, someone somewhere has to have _something _that can help us!" Steve pursed his lips.

"I bet I know someone who might be able to help us." Kat remarked.

"Who?" Steve grunted.

"Don't we have a good _old friend_ down in _Pediatrics? _Who just happens to have Minnie Slighter as a patient?" Kat grinned.

"And who has numerous,_ questionable_ resources?" Amanda rolled her eyes.

"That's right!" Stacy exclaimed, and rose from her seat.

* * *

Stacy walked up to the receptionist's desk down in the Pediatrics ward and asked if the doctor was available. The receptionist, recognizing who she was, said that Stacy could wait in the hallway. She did so, with her little notepad and pen in hand. She leaned against the wall crossing her arms, waiting. She finally saw a familiar face and smirked as the doctor walked right passed her. "Well, well, look who it is." She chuckled. "Hello, _Arnold Bennington _alias Dr. Jack Stewart." The dark-haired man turned to face her and gaped. Stacy laughed.

"Stace!" Jack blurted out. "My favorite journalist. Hey, what the heck are you doing here? It's been a while." He asked as he gave her a friendly hug. "You, uh, didn't by any chance come down to release my secret missions to elaborate my heroic image, did ya?" He teased. Stacy shook her head.

"Jack, I already gave you some credit in my press conference, remember?" She chuckled with her hands on her hips, referring to a murder case Jack had helped the Sloans solve a couple months ago. "Sorry, but I can't tell the whole county of your selfless, heroic escapades and sleuthing. Besides, if I exposed your secrets, the bad guys would be tipped off and you'd be out of a job. _So, _I'm really doing you a favor."

"So, uh, how's everything going? What brings you down to my little world of bumps and bruises?" Jack asked curiously.

"Jack, are you busy? Do you have a minute?" Stacy asked in a more serious tone. "I have a problem, and I need to talk to _you _about it."

"Sure. I've got plenty of time for you, kid." Jack's brows furrowed in curiosity and concern. "We can talk in my office." Jack told the reception desk where he'd be, then ushered Stacy into his office. It was nice and professional, but nowhere close to being as big as Mark's. She could never help comparing the two. Jack offered her a seat on his couch. He set aside his charts on his desk then pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. "So, what seems to be the problem here?" Jack asked curiously. "Is anything the matter?"

"Yes." Stacy nodded with a sigh.

"Is there something I can do to help? Have you been feeling well lately?"

"Oh, Jack. It's not _that _kind of problem." Stacy corrected him. "But thanks for asking. I came to ask you something."

"What is it? I'm listening."

"Jack, do you happen to have a seven-year-old patient in your care by the name of Minnie Slighter?" Stacy asked hopefully.

"Little Minnie? Aw, yeah. Good kid." Jack nodded. Stacy sighed with relief.

"Have you heard about her father, Joe Slighter?" Stacy asked nervously.

"Who hasn't? Yeah, I heard about him. He committed suicide." Jack answered. "Hey, that was some article in the paper about the Slighter family. What a piece of work."

"Jack, don't start. I didn't write that!" Stacy blurted defensively.

"Aw, yeah? Then who did?" Jack asked in that teasing tone of his. "You saying you're a victim of identity theft?"

"Jack! Please stop it. It isn't funny. I _didn't _write that article!" Stacy's voice broke up. "I didn't."

"Whoa, whoa, hey. It's all right." Jack sputtered, taken aback. Stacy hung her head, sniffling, and tears streamed out of her eyes. Jack touched her shoulder. "Hey, look. I'm sorry." He said earnestly. "I was just foolin' around with ya. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I...I think I know that." Stacy nodded with a quivering voice. "I'm sorry. That whole mess is...it's just a sore spot with me right now." She rubbed her forehead.

"Hey, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Jack stated regretfully. "To tell you the truth, I never really believed that _you _wrote it." Stacy looked up at him hopefully.

"You didn't?" She asked in a lighter tone.

"Nah. You're not that type. So, what did you want to talk to me, about the Slighters? What do you wanna know?"

Stacy wiped her eyes then she looked up at him. "Joe Slighter didn't take his own life, Jack. He was murdered!"

"Murdered? You're beginning to sound like your grandpa, Mark."

"It's true, Jack! You can just ask Amanda." Stacy sniffed. "He was drugged with phenobarbital then the killer choked him to death. She found skin tissue and blood under Joe's fingernails. The killer tried to make it look like he hung himself."

Jack listened with great interest. "Hmm. Sounds interesting." He remarked casually. "What about the note?"

"Kat convinced Mrs. Slighter to give her an old letter of Joe's." Stacy replied. "Grandpa compared it to the so called suicide note Dad found in Joe's apartment. The handwriting doesn't match at all!"

"Lousy move on the part of the killer if you ask me." Jack stated.

"Yes!" Stacy agreed. "Do you have time to come up and talk with Dad and Grandpa about the Slighters?"

"Sure." Jack said. "I'd love to be invited into the bullpen again." Jack informed his secretary where he would be then joined Stacy upstairs heading for the doctor's lounge.

* * *

"Hey, Jack!" Steve greeted as Jack and Stacy came in.

"Hey, Steve. Kat, my favorite Sloan." Jack grinned, giving her a hug. "You look good, kid."

"Thanks." She smiled.

"Jack, what can you tell us about Minnie?" Mark asked.

"Ahh, man. That poor kid was really put through hell with that car accident." Jack began. "Multiple traumas, contusions, and gashes. She's a real walking miracle. Honestly, after her dad losing his position in the city, I don't know how they could afford the extreme therapy and all the medical care she needed!"

"Yeah, well. We do." Steve muttered. They filled Jack in about all they knew.

"Wow." Jack sighed. "That's really rough."

"Jack, from the time Minnie came under your care, can you recall the Slighters' mentioning anyone who might have been 'trying to help out' financially?" Mark asked.

"It's been two years, Mark." Jack said. "But, not off hand."

"_Jack,"_ Amanda narrowed her eyes. Jack squinted at her suspiciously. "You have certain 'circles of friends', don't you?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Jack huffed.

"Well, we were hoping maybe you could ask around, see if you can find out anything about Joe's brother while Dad tries to track him down through Records...from some of your _shady _connections?" Stacy hinted.

"Wha-you all saying I had a bad childhood?" Jack retorted.

"_Well," _Amanda began.

"Don't answer that." Jack cut her off.

"Jack, could you at least ask around?" Stacy begged.

"Alright, alright." Jack groaned. "Why do I let myself get talked into these things?"

"That's why we all love you so." Kat teased.

"Well, I'd better get to the precinct." Steve said.

At that moment, Jessie walked in. "Hey, guys! What's going on?" He asked.


	7. Chapter 7 No Leaks

**I hope the ending of the last chapter made sense. Of course Steve can see if Bill Slighter has a record, but Jack could get much faster information! And that's going to be related to this chapter and the next.**

**Oh, and I am revising some of my chapters to my other DM fic _Beyond Routine. _For instance, the Sloan's dog is a black Lab, not an Australian Shepherd, and I'm reediting some other things though the basic gist with Steve going crazy will stay!**

* * *

Two men were in the basement of **Marley's Furnishings, **behind locked doors after business hours had ended. One in a black, leather jacket handed the other in a sport jacket a handful of hundred dollar bills.

"So, what do we do?" The guy with the sport jacket asked.

The guy in the black leather jacket sneered. "Simple. Get rid of the little snoop. And do a good job. Make it look like a simple problem. No need to make things too complicated."

The guy in the sport jacket pondered for a minute. "We split the take on our two operations fifty-fifty, and you've got a bargain!"

"Deal." The guy in the leather jacket smiled. "Oh, if that stupid Sloan detective and his old man, or anyone else, go poking their long noses where they don't belong, you take care of them too."

"That's a bonus."

"Don't screw this up, Landing." The guy in leather warned. "I'm gonna get what's mine, and if we don't remove that Sloan chick, all my hard work will be down the drain. And you with it!"

"Don't worry. Compared to some of the other assignments you've given me, this will be a piece of cake." Landing answered.

"_It better be." _His boss emphasized.


End file.
